The Multiverse Christmas Carol
by jjhatter
Summary: I think the title is pretty self-explanatory, yes? If you wish to find out more, open this up! R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: I own nothing, save for four OCs. All other characters here belong to multiple universes, all of which I shall give later. This story will be done like a musical (a musical? By _moi?!_ Inconceivable!), with songs taken from various versions of _A Christmas Carol_, the original story of which belongs to Charles Dickens. In this chapter, our songs are taken from _Mickey's Christmas Carol_ and _Muppet Christmas Carol_. I own-eth them not; Disney does. If there are any problems with this disclaimer/story, please tell me. The opening lines (after the song) here come from my personal favorite version of _A Christmas Carol, _made in 1971; it belongs to Richard Williams and Chuck Jones, not I. (Also, I am using ONE OC that belongs to another author; I have permission, and, should this author wish me to stop using this character, I will.)

Summary: The title makes it obvious, don't you agree?

Notes: The site won't let me put spaces between verses in songs; I apologize for this in advance.

**Chapter I: Setting the Stage**

_Oh, What a Merry Christmas Day!_

_Hear the joyous music play!_

_Bells are ringing, choirs singing,_

"_Oh, What a Merry Christmas Day!"_

_Sharing the season of good cheer_

_With the ones we hold so dear!_

_Friendly faces, warm embraces!_

_Oh, What a Merry Christmas Day!_

_Snowflake-covered country lanes;_

_Jack Frost-painted window panes;_

_Twinkling stars on Christmas Trees..._

_Oh, what happy memories!_

_Gathered 'round the fireplace:_

_Families, filled with love and grace;_

_From the peaceful embers' glow,_

_Blessed Yuletide spirits grow!_

_Grow and grow!_

_Grow and grow..._

_Joy to the children, far and near!_

_What a wonderous time of year!_

_Isn't it just grand to say_

"_Merry, Merry Christmas..._

_(Merry, Merry Christmas...)_

"_Merry Merry Christmas..._

_(Merry, Merry Christmas...)_

"_Oh, What a Merry Christmas Day!"_

The place? London. The time? 1843. The season? That of "jollity," of festivity and charity! Holly, and berries, and good will toward men...with perhaps one exception.

And it is with this exception we are concerned in our story.

But, before we can see him, we must find someone else...

Ah, there he is now! See him? He's over on market street, a small, white-faced figure by his side, selling something from a cart...

"Greetings! Hello!" says the man; he wears a tall, green hat, with a yellow band covered in red polka-dots, and a great tag reading "In this style, 10/6" on one side. Other than this, he wears a Santa Claus suit, with black gloves and boots, but is a bit too skinny to make the cut, and has no beard. "Come and buy your Christmas teas! We have peppermint..."

"And chocolate!" adds the small white figure near him, dressed in a red jacket, earmuffs, and mittens, with maroon breeches. A tiny scabbard, holding a pin-sword, is at her side, and her long, pink tail whisks about idly.

"Don't like tea? Then we have hot cocoa! Everyone likes cocoa, yes? Come on up, folks! What's that? Mint tea? Oh, yes, here...thank you for stopping by! Hurry, folks! Only so much here, you know!"

"Tuppence a bag, while they last!" adds the dormouse, sipping from a teacup.

The man sighs, and looks at her scathingly as a potential customer glances at them and passes on by.

"They won't last long, you know, at the rate you're drinking it."

"Tarrant's run out; I'm taking a taste-test!"

"Gah! Look, Mally..."

"Ahem! They're here."

"Hm? What? Oh, hello! Madness, where does the time go? Greetings, and welcome, my dearest readers! I'm feeling much better, thank you, and I am here to tell the story!"

"And I am here to help him out," adds the dormouse.

"My name," says the young man, tipping his hat, "Is J.J. Hatter."

"And my name," says the dormouse, "Is Mallymkun...hold on! Wait a second!"

"What, what?"

"You're not J.J. Hatter!"

"I am, too!" huffs the man, crossing his arms indignantly.

"No, no, no...J.J. Hatter is a guy obsessed with my world, collects all sorts of things related to evil clowns that fight giant bats, and watches _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ on Thanksgiving! In short: HE IS INSANE."

The man smirks and points at the hat on his head.

"Do I look like a sane person to you?"

Mallymkun raises an eyebrow.

"Why should I believe you?"

"Three good reasons: one, you're here. Two, my name is at the top of this page: I'm the author. And three: I have seen/heard/read over thirty different versions of _A Christmas Carol,_ not counting fanfictions, and most certainly not counting mine. I know this tale like the back of my right hand."

Mally smirked, putting her hands on her hips.

"Very well. Prove it."

"As you wish," shrugs the man, and extends his right hand, closing his eyes. "Ahm...there's a tiny little birthmark, about an inch away from my thumb...my pinky is crooked, after not healing right, when I broke it in a game of basket-"

"No, no, I don't mean your _hand!_ I mean, tell 'em the story!"

"Oh! Sorry! Well, in that case..."

_**Maurice was dead, to begin with.**_

"Whoa...what? Pardon me?"

The man sighs.

"That's how this version begins, dear Mally: 'Maurice was dead to begin with.'"

"Oh."

_**Ahem...as I was saying, Maurice was dead to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that: the register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner: Scrooge signed it, and Scrooge's name was good upon anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Maurice was dead as a doornail...**_

"I've never understood that phrase..."

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Well, what's so dead about a doornail?"

_**Well, I don't mean to say, of my own knowledge, that**__** there is anything particularly dead about a doornail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of iron in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the website's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Maurice was as dead as a doornail.**_

"Very, well."

"You know, Mally, we could get through this much quicker if you didn't interrupt me so often."

"Sorry."

"Thank you."

_**Scrooge knew he was dead? Why, of course he did! How could it be otherwise?! Scrooge WAS the chief mourner, as well as his only friend! He and Maurice had been partners in business for I-don't-know-how-many-years. As for our dear Mr. Scrooge, you shall meet him as he comes around the corner.**_

_"Where?"_

_ **There.**_

_"When?"_

_ **Now.**_

A tall figure moves from another street into view. His face is shrouded by the black top hat on his head, the dark cloak about his shoulders whipping in the winter wind. A red and gold cane is held in one of his hands, and clacks against the street as he walks. The only thing visible of him are his eyes: burning, red, hate-filled eyes.

"Brr...say, J, is it getting colder out here...?"

_**Scrooge liked the cold: he was hard, and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster...**_

_When a cold wind blows, it chills you!_

_Chills you to the bone!_

_But there's nothing in nature that freezes a heart_

_Like years of being alone!_

_It paints you with indifference,_

_Like a lady paints with rouge!_

_And the worst of the worst,_

_The most hated and cursed,_

_Is the one that we call Scrooge!_

_Unkind as any!_

_And the wrath of many!_

_This is evil Mr. Scrooge..._

_Oh, there goes Mr. Humbug!_

_There goes Mr. Grim!_

_If they gave a prize for being mean,_

_The winner would be him!_

_Old Scroogey loves his money, 'cause_

_He thinks it gives him power!_

_If he became a flavor,_

_You can bet he would be "sour!" Blech!_

_(Even the vegetables don't like him.)_

_There goes Mr. Skinflint!_

_There goes Mr. Greed!_

_The undisputed master of_

_The underhanded deed!_

_He charges folks a fortune for_

_His dark and drafty houses!_

_Us poor folk live_

_In misery!_

_It's even worse for mouses..._

_(Please, sir, I want some cheese!)_

_ "I really dislike you right now, J."_

_ **I know.**_

_He must be so lonely,_

_He must be so sad,_

_He goes to extremes_

_To convince us he's bad!_

_He's really a victim_

_Of fear and of pride!_

_Look close, and there must be_

_A sweet man inside..._

The figure stops in front of the tea booth, and glares at the two.

Both bow their heads, busying themselves with their goods.

He moves on, and both sigh with relief.

"Do you REALLY think so?" asks Mally.

Her companion chuckles.

"Heh, heh...nope."

_There goes Mr. Outrage!_

_There goes Mr. Sneer!_

_He has no time for friends or fun!_

_His anger makes that clear!_

_Don't ask him for a favor,_

_Because his nastiness increases!_

_No crust of bread for those in need,_

_No cheeses for the "meeses!"_

_** But what did Scrooge care? It was the very thing he liked: to edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance...**_

_There goes Mr. Heartless!_

_There goes Mr. Cruel!_

_He never gives, he only takes!_

_He lets his hunger rule!_

_If being mean's_

_A way of life,_

_He's practiced and rehearsed!_

_And all that work is paying off,_

'_Cause Scrooge is getting worse!_

_Every day,_

_In every way,_

_Scrooge is getting worse!_

The figure turns sharply as he reaches his office door, raising the cane above his head...

No one is there.

He snarls; the cool winter light reveals him to be a great, black cat, wearing an expensive-looking red suit beneath his cloak. The cane he carries is topped with a gold ornament in the shape of a dragon's head.

"Humbug," he sneers, and, turning on his heel, enters the building, slamming the door behind him.

"Yeesh," hisses Mally, through her teeth, as she and the Hatter peek from around the corner. "Yet another sign that you are sick..."

"Thank you," he smiles.

_**Ladies and gentlemen...boys and girls...humans and animals...and Mally...**_

_"Hey!"_

_ **Allow me to present my little Ghost Story for Christmas: The Multiverse Christmas Carol! **_

**Starring characters from...**

**Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland**

**Epic Mickey**

**The Wubbulous World of Dr. Seuss**

**The Nightmare Before Christmas**

**Hook**

**Batman: The Animated Series**

**And a few OCs, used for the universes of...**

**Kung Fu Panda**

**Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland (again)**

**Legend of the Guardians: The Owls of Ga'Hoole (OC used with permission from Shen's General)**

**And one just for this story!**

**With songs from...**

**Mickey's Christmas Carol**

**Muppet Christmas Carol**

**The Stingiest Man in Town**

**Scrooge (1970)**

**A Christmas Carol (1997)**

**An All Dogs Christmas Carol**

**And Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol**

**With J.J. Hatter as...myself!**


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: Firstly: I've changed POV for this chapter, and the rest of the story. Secondly: the song is this chapter is from _The Stingiest Man in Town,_ but I honestly don't know the name of the song...I'm just going to call it _Uncle Scrooge/Humbug!_

**Chapter II: The Office**

_**Once upon a time, out of all the good days of the year, on Christmas Eve, Scrooge sat-**_

The man paused, and looked through the window...or, rather, tried to, as the frost and dirty and smoggy residue made such a feat nearly impossible.

"Ick...this really is a dirty city, isn't it?" he mumbled, running his gloved fingers against the grimy glass.

Mally rolled her eyes.

"Hmph. You tell me."

The man looked down, and, without thinking, grabbed her...

"Hey! What...?!"

And slammed her against the glass, using the back of her dress to wipe it clean.

"I'm going to KILL you..."

"I look forward to it," smiled the man, and dropped her.

_**Ahem...now, where was I? Oh, yes! Scrooge sat in his counting house, while his clerk, in a dismal little cell beyond – a sort of tank – sat copying letters. The fire had gone out, but the clerk could not replenish it, for the master kept the coal scuttle near his desk, and if the clerk so much as looked at it, Scrooge might decide it was time for them to part. The clerk – a small, black rabbit with a white face, wearing nothing but a pair of blue shorts and a white scarf – sat shivering at his desk, trying to warm his hands by the light of the candle beside him, and wrapping his scarf around himself closer. However, not being one of strong imagination, these attempts failed.**_

_** Scrooge sat a little ways away, balancing the ledgers. His cape and hat hung on his chair, but, unlike the clerk, he seemed perfectly content despite the simple, thin red coat he wore being his only true covering. His red eyes scanned the pages as he scratched at them with a pen.**_

_** The clerk bit his lip, and sat back slightly, slowly, and quickly removed one of his arms (he could easily replace it, with no harm done).**_

_** As he reached back, to fling it like a boomerang and snatch a bit of coal while Scrooge wasn't watching...the red eyes settled on him, narrowed dangerously.**_

"Is there a problem, Mr. Oswald?" hissed the master.

The rabbit gulped, and replaced his arm fast, wiggling his fingers and rubbing his wrist to ensure it worked properly.

"I...I was only hoping for some more coal, sir. The fire's out."

Scrooge sighed, putting down his pen and rubbing his temples.

"Come here, Mr. Oswald."

"Yes, sir," said the rabbit, and quickly bounded over to the employer's desk. The black cat eyed him dangerously, and placed his paws on his jacket lapels.

"What is this?"

"A jacket?"

"And that?" was the next question, as Scrooge pointed as his clerk's neck.

"A scarf."

"And those?"

"My pants."

"And this?"

"Your hat."

"Yes, indeed. All these things are called 'clothes,' Mr. Oswald. They were created to give living creatures warmth, and can be used almost indefinitely. Coal, on the other hand, BURNS. It is costly, and it is in limited supply. Now, back to your work, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

** _As Oswald moved back to his desk, he saw a figure through the window..._**

_"Us?"_

_ **No, Mally; they can't see us. We're the narrators, remember?**_

_"Oh."_

"Oh, look!" said Oswald. "Sir, it's your nephew! He's coming up to the door."

"Just what I need," grumbled Scrooge, then, out loud, "Get back to work, I say!"

As Oswald returned to his desk, the nephew burst through the door: a tall, thin, black feline, like his uncle, but with a white-furred face. He wore a red scarf, white gloves, and a tall red-and-white striped hat, and carried a blue umbrella in one hand.

_"Merry Christmas, Uncle Scrooge!"_ he sang.

_"Humbug!"_ was the reply.

_"Oh, be merry, Uncle Scrooge!"_

_ "Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha,"_ the older cat laughed sarcastically, standing up. _"What's so merry on Christmas Day? The merry money you throw away? The merry bills you have to pay? When you say 'Merry Christmas,' I say 'Bah!'"_

Not to be deterred, the Cat in the Hat handed Scrooge a small parcel from under his arm.

_"Here's a present, Uncle Scrooge."_

_ "Humbug!"_ snapped Scrooge, snapping it out of his hand, and tearing at the paper as he spoke. _"I think you are a fool to waste the cash. What's the present you always buy? A handkerchief, or an awful tie! Look at this tie, and you'll know why, when I get Christmas presents, I say 'trash!'"_

_ "But everything at Christmas is so jolly, and lively! The Christmas Trees and wreaths of holly..."_

_ "Poison ivy."_

_ "The girls and boys who dream about Saint Nicholas..."_

_ "Saint Nicholas? Ridiculous!"_

The Cat in the Hat blinked, startled.

_"Don't you like him, Uncle Scrooge?"_

_ "Humbug!"_

_ "Good old Nicholas?"_

_ "That's a lot of slosh!"_

Oswald gasped, but fell silent at a glare from Scrooge.

_"I abominate Old Saint Nick!"_ snarled the uncle, red eyes blazing as he turned on the Cat in the Hat once more. _"His reckless giving makes me sick! In fact, I think Saint Nick is a lunatic! When you say 'Old Saint Nicholas,' I say 'Bosh!'"_

"Don't be cross, uncle!"

"Well, what else can I be, when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas?! Out upon a Merry Christmas! If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly in his heart!"

"Uncle!"

"Nephew! Keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine."

"Don't be angry, uncle...come! Dine with me and my friends tomorrow."

"Christmas dinner? Ugh! I think I'd rather die..."

_"Oh, don't you like a juicy Christmas turkey?"_

_ "Detest it!"_

_ "A pudding with a brandy sauce?"_

_ "Can't digest it."_

_ "You'll get a mellow feeling for humanity..."_

_ "Humanity? Insanity!"_

_ "You'll enjoy it, Uncle Scrooge..."_

_ "Humbug!"_ snapped the older cat, and pushed his nephew, walking around his desk and advancing slowly. _"It may be fun for you, but not for me: I'm not merry on Christmas Day! I'm never happy, I'm never gay, and, if you think I could feel that way, then you are just as stupid as can be!"_

Scrooge backed his nephew up against the closed door.

_"If you think I'd be merry,"_ he hissed, _"And chirp, like a canary, then you are even dumber than a dumb-bug! When you say 'Merry Christmas,' I say: 'Nonsense, fiddlesticks, poppycock, and just plain humbug!' Humbug! Humbug, Humbug, HUMBUG!"_

For a moment, Scrooge stood there, shaking and seething, then, with a sigh, returned to his desk.

"Good afternoon," he mumbled.

The Cat in the Hat sighed, partly out of relief, and partly out of pity.

"I am sorry with all my heart to find you this way, but I'll keep my humor till the last! Merry Christmas, I say!"

"Good afternoon."

"And a Happy New Year!"

_"Good afternoon."_

"And a Merry Christmas to you, Mr. Oswald!"

"Merry Christmas, sir."

"GOOD AFTERNOON!" roared Scrooge.

_**As the nephew left, he allowed two other gentlemen in. One was a small white rabbit with bright pink eyes, dressed in a blue waistcoat and yellow cravat, in a matching blue derby hat. Behind him was his partner, a slightly larger, scruffier brown hare, whose eyes darted about constantly, dressed in a black overcoat and dark knit cap. Both removed their hats, nodded to Oswald, smiling, and made their way toward Scrooge's desk.**_

_** Scrooge saw them, naturally, but never once looked up at them.**_

__"Scrooge and Maurice, I believe?" said the Rabbit, checking his pocket watch quickly, before continuing. "Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Maddohatta Scrooge, or Mr. Maurice?"

"Maurice died seven years ago this very night. I'm Scrooge."

The gentlemen, who ignored Scrooge's disinterested tone and posture, went on to their business.

"Well, we have no doubt," said the White Rabbit, "that his generosity is well represented by his surviving partner."

Scrooge's pen stopped short, and he looked up at them, an amused expression on his face.

"I take it you two are new around here?"

"Aye! New, an' eager!" grinned the March Hare, nodding fast, wringing his paws around his cap.

Scrooge let out a short chuckle, and replaced his pen in the inkwell, placing his head in his paws and looking up at the two with a smile.

"What is it you want?" he purred.

"At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge, it is more than usually desirable that we make some slight provision for the poor and destitute. The organization we represent is endeavoring to raise a fund, to buy some poor families meat, drink, and means of warmth."

Scrooge raised an eyebrow.

"Are there no prisons?"

The Rabbit, taken aback, looked quickly to his partner. The Hare shrugged.

"Aye," he said, simply.

"And the union workhouses are still in operation?"

"They are," said the rabbit slowly. "Still...I wish I could say that they were not."

"The treadmill and poor law in full vigor then?"

"Both are very busy, sir."

The black cat nodded slightly, looking downward thoughtfully.

"Under the impression, however, that they scarcely furnish holiday cheer...what shall we put you down for, sir?" asked the Rabbit, as the Hare pulled a truly enormous ledger from his overcoat, and an equally large pencil.

"Nothing."

Both paused, looking at each other.

"Och, nothing? Ye wish to remine anonymoose?"

"I wish to be left alone. I don't make merry myself at Christmas, and I cannot afford to make idle people merry. I support the establishments I've mentioned, they cost enough, and those who are badly off should go there."

The Rabbit stared, horrified.

"But...many can't go there! And many would rather die!"

"If they would rather die, then they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population. Oswald? Show these gentlemen out."

_**As their fellow lapin showed them out, Oswald quickly handed them a small bit of his own wages as a donation, and apologized for Scrooge's behavior. The gentlemen thanked him, and departed. At that very moment, the grandfather clock in the office struck the closing hour.**_

__Scrooge sighed in frustration, replacing his quill and shutting his book, before putting his cape and hat back on.

"You'll want all day tomorrow, I suppose?" he called to his clerk.

"If it's quite convenient, sir."

"It is not convenient, and it is not fair. If I were to stop you half a crown for it, you'd think yourself ill-used, wouldn't you?"

The clerk smiled faintly.

"Yet, you don't think me ill-used when I pay a full day's wages for no work?"

"It's only once a year, sir."

"Once a year, indeed...a fine excuse for picking a man's pocket every 25th of December! Still, as I seem to be the only around here who knows that..."

Scrooge took his cane as the rabbit handed it to him, and leaned in dangerously.

"Be here early the next morning, am I clear?"

"Yes, sir."

The panther nodded, and left.

"And a Merry Christ-!"

"HUMBUG!" roared the cat to his clerk, who hopped backwards in fear.

The red eyes burned like hot coals.

"Keep your Merry Christmases to yourself, Mr. Oswald. Goodbye."

The door slammed shut.

_**The office was closed in a twinkling soon after, and Oswald bounded back home as fast as he could hop, though not before skating down the icy roads with some carolers, in honor of Christmas Eve. Meanwhile, Scrooge took his usual melancholy dinner, at his usual melancholy tavern, and then went home.**_

_"What then?"_

_ **Well, Mally, they'll just have to wait till the next update for that, won't they?**_

_"Good point."_


	3. Chapter 3

Notes: The song here is _I Wear a Chain,_ once again from _The Stingiest Man in Town._

**Chapter III: Maurice's Ghost**

A horse-drawn wagon, filled with sacks (filled with tea and cocoa powder), moved into the moonlight on a dark street. The man driving pulled the reins, and the horses stopped. He wore a dark green cloak over his Santa Claus outfit, and a tall green hat on his head.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his companion, who, despite her fur and warm jacket, was shivering.

"Jeez...it's freezing!"

"I know, Mally, now hush. Here he comes..."

At that moment, another figure in a cloak and top hat appeared from the mist...

_**Scrooge**__** lived in chambers which had once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite of rooms, and dreary enough, for nobody lived in the building but Scrooge, the other rooms being all let out as offices. The yard was so dark that even Scrooge, who knew its every stone, was fain to grope with his hands. The fog and frost so hung about the black old gateway of the house, that it seemed as if the Genius of the Weather sat in mournful meditation on the threshold.**_

_ "'Genius of the Weather?'"_

_**Just run with it, my dear. Ahem...anyway, the mention of Maurice brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Maurice was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can be found in the events to come...**_

Scrooge grumbled softly to himself; he had bumped into a group of carolers, and was in an even fouler temper than usual.

He heard a clattering sound behind him, and, curious, turned...

He gaped.

A hearse – translucent, for it was black, yet see-through – was coming up the street.

And, much to Scrooge's horror, the driver seemed headless.

He backed away, racing to the gate of the building. He heard the hooves of the phantom hearse behind him, growing closer...closer...

He turned, eyes wide, as he opened the gate...

The hearse, and its driver, had disappeared.

Scrooge blinked, then, after a moment, shook his head.

"Humbug...just something I ate..."

_**Now, there was nothing at all particular about the knocker on the door, except that it was very large. Please, remember, that Scrooge had seen this knocker day in and day out for seven years. Let it also be borne in mind that Scrooge had not bestowed one thought on Maurice, since his last mention of his seven years' dead partner that afternoon. And then let any man explain to me, if he can, how it happened that Scrooge, having his key in the lock of the door, saw not a knocker...**_

He went up to the door, pulling a ring of keys from his pocket, he slipped the one he wanted into the lock. He paused, turning around again.

The yard was dark and barren.

With a snort, he turned back to the door...

And, with a short cry, fell back onto the ground.

_** But Maurice's face.**_

_**Maurice's face. It was not in impenetrable shadow as the other objects in the yard were, but had a dismal, greenish light about it. It was not angry or ferocious, but looked at Scrooge as Maurice used to look: great, silvery eyes glaring behind a metal helmet with bull-like horns, scars visible behind the eye-holes. The feathers of his head were curiously stirred, as if by breath or hot air; and, though the eyes were wide open, they were perfectly motionless. That, and its livid colour, made it horrible. **_

_** As Scrooge looked fixedly at this phenomenon, it was a knocker again.**_

Scrooge shook his head, red eyes wide, as he stared at the knocker. He rose back to his feet, adjusting his hat, and then went inside the house, muttering "Humbug" to himself.

_**To say that Scrooge was not startled, or that his blood was not conscious of a strange sensation, would be untrue. Still, the moment had passed, and the world seemed as it should be once more. However, the incident at the door had made him wary: he searched his rooms to see all was right, a candle his only light...**_

"Okay, that's it!"

"What is it now, Mallymkun?"

"How do you even know what Scrooge is up to? We're outside, and he's inside!"

"I'm the author; I know everything."

"Really? Then what is the square root of 75.5?"

"I meant about the story, _dormousey."_

"Not you, too!"

The man just smiled.

_**Anyway...Scrooge made his way up the staircase, not caring a button for the darkness. Darkness is cheap, and Scrooge liked it. Sitting-room...bedroom...lumber room...all as they should be. Nobody at the table, nobody on his sofa. Nobody in the wardrobe, nobody under the bed. Satisfied, he went to his private quarters and locked himself...no, double-locked himself in, which was not his custom, and, putting on his nightclothes, sat before the fireplace to take his evening gruel...**_

Scrooge sighed as he sat back in his chair. He put on his dressing gown and robe, and hung his red coat and cloak near his bed. He kept the top hat on his head.

He brought a spoonful of gruel up to his whiskered lips...

_"Maddohatta..."_

The panther sat up, glancing toward the door.

Nothing.

He bit his lip, and went to take a sip...

_"Maddohatta Scrooge..."_

He slammed down the bowl on a small table near him, and turned to the door.

"Who is there?"

There was no reply.

But, at that very moment, he heard a soft rattling...and then...

CLANK, CLANK, CLANK...

_**With each passing CLANK, Scrooge felt his heartbeat increase by one. The sound grew in volume, getting closer...closer...**_

_** Then it stopped.**_

_** And, through the door, as if it were mist, entered Maurice's ghost...**_

"Humbug," Scrooge whispered to himself. "I won't believe it..."

Yet there he stood: Old Maurice himself. He was a truly enormous masked owl, with a black wing that contrasted greatly with the rest of his light-brown feathered body. His talons were clasped in a glove-like set of blades, with a heel-blade that resembled a scythe. He was covered in scars and bruises...and, wrapped tightly about his legs and torso were long, iron chains, covered in padlocks, cashboxes, and keys. He glared coldly at Scrooge, who slowly stood up.

"How now! What...what do you want of me?"

**"Much."**

"Who are you?"

**"Ask me who I **_**was."**_

"Well, you're very particular, for a shade," murmered Scrooge, and crossed his arms. "All right: who _were_ you, then?"

**"In life, I was your partner, Skarmoris."**

"Maurice was what I called you," smirked Scrooge, gathering up courage, then, as an afterthought, said, "Can you sit down?"

**"Of course I can."**

Scrooge moved behind his chair, grabbing his cane as he did, and pushed it forward a bit.

"Do it, then."

_**Maurice raised an eyebrow behind his helmet, and flew across the room, perching on the chair, one talon then the other, and briefly ducking to clean his feathers, just as Scrooge remembered him to do so often...**_

_"How does an owl fly when its chained? That doesn't make any-"_

_**Who's telling the story?**_

_"A complete psychopath."_

_**Thank you, dearest dormouse. Where was I? Oh, yes! Ahem...**_

_** Scrooge took a step back, raising his cane over his head, and then brought it down with a short grunt...**_

THWACK!

A bladed talon caught the cane, and, with a sharp twist and a short yelp, Scrooge found himself on the floor, while the ghost of his old partner loomed over him, tossing the cane away.

**"What's wrong, Hatta? Don't you believe in me?" the owl said, a dark twinkle in his cold, metallic eyes.**

"I do not," snarled Scrooge, rubbing his jaw.

** "Why do you doubt your senses?"**

"Because little things affect them," sneered Scrooge, rising to his feet and fastidiously brushing himself off. "A slight disorder of the stomach can make them cheat! Y-you may be just and undigested bit of beef! A fragment of an underdone potato! Yes," he chuckled, more nervously than boldly, "there's more of 'gravy' than of 'grave' about you! Humbug, I tell you! Humbug!"

_** No sooner had the words left Scrooge's mouth, then Maurice rose into the air with a terrible screech, and, in a single, fluid motion, flipped the helmet off his head. A jagged, long scar ran across the left side of his face, and – much to Scrooge's horror – the bottom half of his beak was broken off, revealing a hideous, gaping, black-bloodstained hole.**_

_"Yech!"_

_**Mally?**_

_"What?"_

_**You STAB OUT EYES on a regular basis. Now hush.**_

Scrooge fell back, leaning against the fireplace, holding out one paw placatingly.

"Mercy, dreadful apparition! Why do you trouble me?!"

**"One of the worldly mind! Do you believe in me, or not?!"**

"I do! I must! But why do you walk the earth, and why do you come to me?"

**"It is required of every living creature,"** Maurice rasped, settling back down, **"That the spirit within them should walk abroad, and if that spirit goes not forth in life..."**

He paused, moving his wings quickly, causing the chains about him to rattle and clink together.

**"...It is condemned to do so after death, and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared, in life, and turned to happiness."**

"You are fettered. Tell me why."

**"I wear the chain I forged in life! I made it, link by link, and yard by yard! I girded it on, of my own free will, and of my own free will I wear it..."**

"_**I wear a chain!**_

"_**A heavy chain**_

"_**Is wound around my soul!**_

"_**A chain of sins and vices**_

"_**That I could not control!**_

"_**Repent your crimes!**_

"_**Repent in time,**_

"_**Or you'll repent in vain!**_

"_**For if you wait**_

"_**Until too late**_

"_**You'll never break your chain!**_

"_**Although my chain**_

"_**Is very strong,**_

"_**The one you bear is stronger!**_

"_**My Chain of Wrong**_

"_**Is very long,**_

"_**But yours is even longer!**_

"_**You must escape!**_

"_**Escape my fate!**_

"_**Cast off the sins that bind you!**_

"_**Or you will find,**_

"_**When YOU pass on,**_

"_**YOU'LL DRAG A CHAIN**_

"_**BEHIND YOU!"**_

Scrooge shuddered.

"Oh, Maurice...my old friend...speak comfort to me, Maurice!"

**"Comfort? I have none to give!"** howled the ghost, shaking his chains wildly. **"Nor can I tell you all I would! I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere! Mark me! In life, my spirit never roamed beyond the narrow limits of our money-changing hole! Weary flights now lie before me!"**

"Seven years dead...travelling all the time?"

**"The whole time; no rest, no peace. On the wings of the wind, as I once did...but now with the incessant torture of remorse, and **_**these..."**_ he snarled, looking down at himself once more with a glare.

Scrooge gulped.

"Y-you must have covered a lot of ground in seven years-"

**"OH, CAPTIVE, BOUND AND DOUBLE-IRONED! BLIND, BLIND MAN!" **shrieked the owl, extending his wings and leaning in close, the gory gap where his mouth was right in Scrooge's face, while the panther closed his eyes and his ears flattened back. **"NOT TO KNOW THAT NO SPACE OF REGRET CAN MAKE AMENDS FOR ONE'S LIFE'S OPPORTUNITIES MISUSED!"**

Maurice panted, then, with a sigh backed away again, shaking his head slowly.

**"Yet such was I...such was I..."**

"N-now...you were always a good man of business, Maurice..."

**"Business?! Mankind was my business! The common welfare was my business! Charity! Mercy! Forbearance! Benevolence! They were all my business! The dealings of our trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive OCEAN of my BUSINESS! Why did I walk through clouds of fellow beings with my eyes turned down, and never raise them to that blessed star that led the wise men to a poor abode?!"**

Spent of phantasmal breath, Maurice took a deep gulp of air, and then leaned in again.

**"Hear me..."**

"I...I will, I will!"

**"I am here tonight to warn you that you have yet a chance of escaping my fate, Hatta."**

Scrooge sighed, looking up with a thankful, if still fearful, smile.

"You always were a good friend to me, Maurice. Thank you."

**"You will be haunted by three more spirits."**

Scrooge's smile fell.

"Is...is that the chance and hope you mentioned?"

**"It is."**

"...I'd rather not."

**"Without their visits, you cannot hope to shun the path I tread."**

There was a pause.

**"Expect the first tonight, when the bell tolls one."**

_**So saying, Maurice replaced his helmet, and flapped over to the window, which opened of its own accord, before beckoning Scrooge over with a toss of his head. Cautiously, the black cat approached, and looked outside.**_

_** The air was filled with moaning phantoms; each chained, some with longer coils than Maurice, others shorter; Scrooge spotted a blonde-haired man in a purple suit, with a black top hat on his head and buckteeth, sobbing as he hovered over a woman lying asleep on the frosty street, who also had blonde hair. A large safe was chained to his ankle. The misery of these ghouls was, plainly, that they had lost the power to interfere for good in human matters.**_

**"Observe, and know our misery, Scrooge,"** Maurice wailed, and leapt from the window, flying out into the snowy night. **"Look to see me no more, and, for your own sake, remember what has passed between us!"**

_**There was a bright flash of light, and when Scrooge opened his eyes again, the tormented spirits had all vanished.**_

Scrooge looked outside, and reached out, catching a few snowflakes on his paw.

He watched them melt, shut the window, and, went back to his bed.

"Humbug...nothing but a nightmare!"

He lay down, rising up only to shut the curtains, and let out one last "Humbug" before falling into a profound slumber, exhausted.

_**And, perhaps, it WAS a nightmare. But, if so, it was far, far from over...**_

_"Yeesh...that was some pretty spooky stuff..."_

_**You haven't really read anything I've put you in, have you, Mally?'**_

_"Why do you ask?"_

_**Sigh...never mind...**_


	4. Chapter 4

Notes: This chapter's ghost is based on the character's appearance in the film _Hook._ The song's in this chapter are _December the 25__th__,_ from the 1970 musical film _Scrooge,_ and _I'll Cross This Bridge_ from the 1997 version of _A Christmas Carol. _ Belle is a "semi-OC," based on the character from the original book, I made up just for this story; I couldn't think of any characters to use in her place (well...none that I WANTED to use).

**Chapter IV: The First Spirit**

_** Scrooge awoke to the chimes of a neighboring clock; his room was flooded with light, and a tiny hand opened the curtains of his bed...**_

__Scrooge yelped, jumping back slightly. He gazed up, holding a paw over his eyes as he looked for the source of the light. Slowly...very slowly...the light began to dissipate...

And then Scrooge beheld her: a tiny, fluttering creature...like a small girl...yet not so much like a young girl as like an insect, her small, luminiscient wings flitting about. A strange, golden, ethereal light shone around her. She wore a smirk and a brown, ragged suit of clothes, with what seemed to be a tiny dagger stuck into a belt around her slim, miniscule waist.

"Are...are you the spirit wh-whose coming was foretold...to me?"

"I am," smiled the pixie, flying in a bit closer to his face. He squinted at the light.

"Who...what are you?"

"Well, my friends call me Tinker Bell, but you can call me the Ghost of Christmas Past."

Scrooge smirked.

"I thought you'd be a bit larger."

The spirit frowned. Scrooge let out a sharp "OW!" as a tiny hand grabbed his whiskers. Hard.

"Now you listen here: if people were measured by happiness, you'd be no bigger than a speck of dust!"

Scrooge harrumphed, trying to bat her away, and then stroked his sore whiskers tenderly.

"Happiness is in short supply these days."

The fairy rolled her eyes.

"You didn't always think so."

Scrooge narrowed his scarlet eyes.

"What brings you here?" he growled.

"Your welfare."

"I am much obliged, but I think a good night's sleep would do me much better."

The ghost grabbed his whiskers again.

"Come on, you!" she snorted.

_**There was a blinding flash of light, and Scrooge disappeared from his room...**_

__Outside the house, a man in a top hat and a small, white dormouse watched through the window as just this happened.

"Great," sighed Mallymkun, and looked at her companion indignantly. "Now what are you going to do?"

"Fear not, my dear: I have ways of getting around."

So saying, the man snapped his fingers.

There was a pause.

"...What are we waiting for?"

The man looked up sharply, and smiled, taking a few steps back.

"You might want to move away, Mally."

The dormouse raised an eyebrow and looked up.

With a squeak, she ran over and grabbed onto the young man's coat as what looked like an enormous, blue phone booth dropped from the sky.

She blinked, and glared up suspiciously.

"What's a blue phone booth doing in 1843, anyway?"

"I suggest you don't question anything resembling logic in this story, my dear; you're from Wonderland."

"UNDERLAND."

"Whatever. Now, come on in...it is much bigger on the inside."

__**Later, as the man and the dormouse exited the phone booth...**

Mally fell to her knees and paws, gasping deeply, out of breath.

"Worst...trip...ever."

"It takes getting used to, I'm sure," shrugged the young man, and then turned and waved to a figure inside the phone booth. "Thanks, Doc!"

The phone booth abruptly vanished.

"Ah!" smiled the Hatter, pointing out two figures not too far away. "Now we can continue our story!"

"Peachy. Just...great," snarled the dormouse, her mind instantly setting to work on the most painful way to horribly maim a fanfiction author...

_** Scrooge and the "Ghost" found themselves on an old country lane. It was a clear, bright, cold winter day, yet the chill felt minimal to Scrooge, though he wore nothing but his nightclothes, and there was a fresh blanket of snow upon the ground. **__**He was conscious of a thousand sounds and odors floating in the air, each one connected with a thousand thoughts, and hopes, and joys, and cares long, long, forgotten...**_

__"Good heavens...I was a boy here!"

"Your lip is trembling," smirked the Spirit of the Past. "And...hold it! What's that on your cheek?"

"It's...it's nothing. Just a melted snowflake, that's all," snapped Scrooge, dashing it away with a claw.

The Ghost smiled wider.

"Do you recollect the way to the school?"

"Recollect it? I could walk it blindfold!"

"Strange, having forgotten it for so long. Follow me..."

_**And so the pixie flew onward, Scrooge behind her, as she led him to his old school. The ghost was so fast, Scrooge had to run...**_

___"And so did we..."_

_**...In order to keep up. The building was large and made from dull, red colored bricks. Everything fired on Scrooge's brain like a bullet; the feel of the desks, the smell of the chalk...**_

_** And the small figure, seated at a lonely desk, by a feeble fire, reading a book, in one corner of the old schoolroom.**_

__Scrooge stared at his younger self for a long, long time, face blank. After a moment, he sat down beside the boy, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

The pixie flew closer.

"These are shadows of things that have been; he can't see, hear, or feel you."

"All for the better, I suppose."

"Why didn't you go home for Christmas?"

"I wasn't wanted. 'You are to become a man of business,' my father said to me. 'As such, you will remain at your school until that time – if any – that I feel you are ready to go out into the world. I shall not have one weak whelp ruin the name of our family.'"

"So you were alone?"

Scrooge smiled faintly, looking into the book his past self read.

"No...I had my own ways of escaping reality. I had my friends: Robinson Crusoe, the parrot, Friday...and more."

"That's tough..."

"LIFE is tough."

"Let's visit another Christmas, shall we?"

Scrooge glanced quickly at the spirit, then jumped back in astonishment, when, as he turned back to his child self, he had grown older, into an adolescent.

The young cat glared at the book in his hands, and, with sudden anger, flung it across the room, moving to the window.

"Bah!" snarled the young cat. "Humbug!"

Scrooge sighed...and so did his past self.

"They were all very much the same here...all lonely..."

"True...but not this one!"

At that moment, Scrooge heard the door open. Both he and his child self turned fast...and both their faces lit up.

"Fan?"

"Fan!"

"Hatta!"

A small black cat ran towards Scrooge. He reached down to hug her...and she passed right THROUGH him, and embraced his younger self.

"My little sister..." murmered Scrooge.

"I've come to bring you home, brother!"

"Home, Fan?" the younger Scrooge asked, cautiously.

"Yes, home! Father's much kinder than he used to be! He spoke so gently to me, I asked him once more if you could come home for Christmas...and he said yes!"

The younger Scrooge, smiled, and stroked his sister's head affectionately.

"You are quite the lady, little Fan."

Then, slowly, the room faded, and Scrooge found himself in total darkness.

"She died a young woman," said the ghost, "And had – I think – a child?"

"Yes: my nephew."

"We have more to see."

_**As the words were spoken, Scrooge suddenly found himself in the busy thoroughfares of a city. It was made plain enough, by the dressing of the shops, that here, too, it was Christmas time; but it was evening, and the streets were lighted up. The Ghost stopped at a certain warehouse door...**_

__"Do you know this place?"

"Know it?! I was apprenticed here!"

_**They went in.**_

___"Really? How fascinating."_

_**Your sarcasm is to be admired, dormouse. Ahem...anyway, Scrooge spotted himself, older than in the last vision, but still a young man, working at a ledger, while seated beside a large, blue-green shelled turtle, who was doing the same work.**_

__"Yertle, my fellow apprentice! We were quite attached to each other...poor Yertle..."

"What happened to him?"

"I'm not really sure, spirit; I heard rumors that he had gone mad and tried to become king of the moon, but I really don't know..."

Then, Scrooge spotted a figure at the end of the room. He smiled and laughed, despite himself.

"Mirana! My old mistress, bless her heart! The White Queen, herself, and alive again!"

"Yoo hoo!" called the woman in white. "No more work, Hatta! Yertle! It's Christmas Eve, my friends!"

"Hooray!" cried the turtle.

"Clear away, lads, and let us have lots of room here!"

_ "__**Clear away," she said! There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared away, or couldn't have cleared away, with Mirana looking on. It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from public life for evermore; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire; and the warehouse was as snug, and warm, and dry, and bright a ball-room, as you would desire to see upon a winter's night. In came a fiddler with a music-book, and went up to a rather lofty desk, and made an orchestra of it, and tuned his fiddle expertly.**__**Within a few minutes time, all the guests had arrived, and after a hearty meal...**_

__"Who is ready to dance!" called the White Queen. All the courtiers and apprentices raised their hands and shouted, and the fiddler nodded to her with a grin, and struck up a tune. All the guests got into pairs, except for Mirana, who stood beside the fiddler and "conducted" the dancers as she sang.

_"Of all the days in all the year that I'm familiar with, there's only one that's REALLY fun..."_

_ "DECEMBER THE 25__TH__!" _chorused the partiers.

_"Correct! Ask anyone called Robinson, or Brown, or Jones, or Smith, their favorite day, and they will say..."_

_ "DECEMBER THE 25__TH__!"_

_ "Correct!"_

_ "December the 25__th__, my dears!"_ they all sang together, _"December the 25__th__! The dearest day in all the year! December the 25__th__!"_

_ "Correct!"_

_ "December the 25__th__! December the 25__th__!"_

_ "Correct! Sometimes we're glad to see the backs of all our kin and kith, but there's one date we celebrate..."_

_ "DECEMBER THE 25__TH__!"_

_ "Correct! At times, our friends may seem to be devoid of wit or pith, but all of us are humorous..."_

_ "DECEMBER THE 25__TH__!"_

_ "Correct!"_

_ "December the 25__th__, my dears! December the 25__th__! The dearest day in all the year! December the 25__th__! Yes, December the 25__th__, my dears! December the 25__th__! The dearest day in all the year! December the 25__th__!"_

_ "Correct! If there's a day in history that's more than any myth, without a doubt, one day stands out..."_

_ "DECEMBER THE 25__TH__!"_

_ "Correct! I don't hear any arguments, so, let me say, forthwith, I wish that every day could be..."_

_ "DECEMBER THE 25__TH__!"_

_ "Correct!"_

_ "December the 25__th__, my dears! December the 25__th__! The dearest day in all the year! December the 25__th__!"_

_**As Mirana's song came to a close, and she, herself, moved to the dance floor...**_

___"What's she doing lording over a warehouse, anyway?"_

_**Are you REALLY questioning this? Anyway, Scrooge watched closely as he bowed to his partner: a female panther. As they rose, their eyes met. They paused for a moment...smiled...and began to dance, as the music slowed from the merry jig down to a lovely waltz.**_

__"Do you remember this dance?" asked the fairy.

Scrooge lowered his gaze.

"Yes...I remember."

"There was another, very important, Christmas spent with this woman, some years later..."

Scrooge stared, eyes wide.

"Oh, no, spirit! Please! Do not show me that Christmas!"

The pixie sighed, and shook her head apologetically, as the warehouse vanished...

_**Once again, Scrooge saw himself. He was older now; a feline in the prime of his life. His face had not the harsh and rigid lines of later years; but it had begun to wear the signs of care and avarice. There was an eager, greedy, restless motion in the eye, which showed the passion that had taken root, and where the shadow of the growing tree would fall. He was running across a bridge, to meet a figure in a blue dress; the lady cat from Mirana's party...**_

__"Times change, and people with them," Scrooge said, bitterly, and tried to turn away. "I wish to see no more..."

"You MUST," snapped Tinker Bell, and yanked the panther around by the whiskers yet again. The pain in Scrooge's lips could not match the pain of his heavy heart as he watched the scene before him unfold, solemnly.

"Good news, Belle, my darling!" his younger self called, and quickly came upon his partner. "Guess what I've got with me!"

The panther-lady, Belle, smiled faintly, almost sadly.

"Give me a few hints, Hatta."

The younger Scrooge smirked.

"It is small, gold, round, and contains the secrets of the future."

Belle's smile widened, hopefully.

"A ring?"

Scrooge's past self laughed, oblivious to the hurt in the panther lady's eyes as he spoke.

"No!" he cried out, holding aloft a large, gold coin. "The profits of me and Maurice's first business venture! Isn't it wonderful?"

Belle sighed, and turned away, thoughtfully. Young Scrooge's smile fell, and he cocked his head, curious and concerned.

"Belle? What is wrong?"

Belle smiled up at him sadly, and moved past him, back to him, standing at the edge of the bridge...

_"Now we've reached this bridge together. And I hope we'll soon be across...don't put a price on paradise, or your paradise gets lost."_

Young Scrooge frowned, walking closer.

_"Every bridge leads to disaster, if its moorings aren't secure. Heaven won't provide on the bridge's dark side...it's our wealth which will endure!"_

_ "I'll cross this bridge with you,"_ Belle said, taking his hands in her own. _"I WILL cross this bridge with you. Show me the man that I once knew, and I'll cross this bridge with you."_

_ "No one lives on hopes and wishes! Love, alone, grows dry, and cold! But the sun will shine on these bright dreams of mine, as upon this coin of gold!"_

Belle backed away, uncertain.

_"Can I cross this bridge with you?"_

_ "I'm who I am..."_

_ "Your words leave me split in two..."_

_ "What else can I do?"_

_ "Has love begone? Oh, is it through? Should I cross this bridge with you?"_

_ "Life's a rocky and an uncertain course to chart!"_ the younger Scrooge practically screamed. _"Why not be safe, and smart?!"_

Belle growled, now equally enraged, and hurt.

_"Where's your passion?! Where's your HEART?!"_

The older Scrooge sobbed softly, as both went on...

_"Now, it's time to say 'goodbye,' to frivolous dreams we've lost!"_

Belle turned on her heel and walked toward the center of the bridge. The younger Scrooge's eyes widened, and he called out to her, a hand held out, desperate.

"Belle! Belle..._can't we cross this bridge...together?"_

Belle turned, eyes cold as ice, clearly challenging him.

_"I'll cross this bridge...alone."_

_**And she did.**_

The younger Scrooge looked at the coin in his paw for a moment, thoughtfully.

"Go after her, you fool!" hissed the older Scrooge.

But, of course, he knew he wouldn't; he watched, saddened, as his younger self put the coin in his pocket, and stalked away, eyes blazing.

Scrooge turned to the ghost, his own eyes wet and wild.

"Spirit...show me no more. I can't bear it!"

"I told you: these were shadows of things that have been! Don't blame ME for your mistakes!"

"Why do you delight in torturing me?!" Scrooge growled, quickly growing angry. "And why are we even arguing?! You aren't even real! It's all just a nightmare! A humbug! I DON'T BELIEVE IN GHOSTS...AND I DON'T BELIEVE IN FAIRIES!"

Without warning, the tiny spirit let out a bloodcurdling scream. There was a flash of bright light, and Scrooge fell back, blinded...

_**And, when Scrooge opened his eyes, he was back in his room, and, quite exhausted, he barely had time to think before, almost unconsciously, he reeled back into bed, and fell asleep at once...**_

__"Hold on...Mally?"

"Hm?"

"Are you..._crying?"_

"No! Of course not...just continue the story, all right?!"

_**Oh, I intend to...**_


	5. Chapter 5

Notes: Greetings, fellow readers! Before this chapter starts, a quick moment of silence, for the 26 lost at the Sandy Hook School shooting (if you don't know about it, look it up)...

...

...

...

...And we're back. The songs in this chapter are _I Like Life_ from _Scrooge,_ and _Bless Us All_ from _Muppet Christmas Carol._

**Chapter 5: The Second Spirit**

_** Awakening in the middle of a prodigious snore, Scrooge sat bolt upright in his bed as the clock struck the hour. Recalling the words of Maurice's ghost, he pulled the covers up to his chin, red eyes darting about, wondering from which direction the second ghost would appear. At that moment, nothing between a kitten and a rhinoceros would have surprised him...**_

_"Not even a complete maniac narrating his life?"_

_**No, not likely. So, being prepared for ANYTHING, he was most certainly not prepared for NOTHING. So, when no shape appeared, he was consequently taken by a violent fit of trembling.**_

_** Five minutes...ten minutes...finally, Scrooge became aware of a ruddy light, streaming from under the door that led to the parlor. This increased his fear tenfold, for light, being without physical shape, could mean anything...**_

Scrooge took a deep breath, and got out of bed, moving over to the door. As he reached toward the handle of the door...

"ENTER, MADDOHATTA SCROOGE!"

The door flew open of its own accord – thankfully, it opened inwards – and Scrooge, taking yet another deep breath, entered the parlor.

_**It was his own room. There was no doubt about that. But it had undergone a surprising transformation. The walls and ceiling were so hung with living green, that it looked a perfect grove; from every part of which, bright gleaming berries glistened. The crisp leaves of holly, mistletoe, and ivy reflected back the light, as if so many little mirrors had been scattered there; and such a mighty blaze went roaring up the chimney, as that dull petrifaction of a hearth had never known in Scrooge's time, or Maurice's, for many a winter. **_

_** Heaped upon the floor, to form a kind of throne, were pumpkins of all shape and size and color, from hard-shelled orange to moon-like white. In easy state upon this couch, there sat a tall, thin figure, his bony legs crossed easily, dressed in a red suit with tails, and a loose-fitting red cap, with a white pom-pom and white fur lining that matched his suit, and knee-high black boots, also lined in white fur. Its face, which bore a long, fake, white beard, was a strange, oddly-rounded skull, but this did not, in and of itself, make it frightening, so much as the fact that the lack of expression left the spirit's thoughts a mystery to Scrooge...**_

"Ho Ho Ho! Come! Know me better man!" the spirit called down (his laugh unconvincing). "I am Jack, the Ghost of Christmas Present! Look upon me; have you never seen the like of me before?"

"Never," Scrooge answered, shaking his head.

"Aha!" laughed the ghost, wagging one bony finger. "Yet how many of my elder brothers have come before me, and how many have you rejected in your miserable lifetime?"

"I-I've never met any of your brothers..."

"Ho Ho Ho! You've never cared to look for them."

"Have you had many brothers, spirit?"

This time, the ghost's laugh was real; wild, cackling, and manic.

"More than 1800!"

"A tremendous family to provide for..."

The ghost laughed again.

"My, you are a funny little creature! I must confess: I found it hard to believe you would be as horrible as the rest of my family said you'd be...but now, as I look at you, I see they understated the truth!"

_**The spirit snapped his fingers, and Scrooge, with alarm, found himself flying into the air. He landed, perched upon the mantle of his fireplace; now he and the limber spirit were face to face. The ghost smiled...**_

_"And this was odd, because, you know, he hadn't any lips..."_

_**...And took up a large goblet and a pitcher, and poured the contents of the pitcher into the goblet before handing the cup to Scrooge, who took it uncertainly, and then sipped from it. Immediately, he felt a great wave of intense warmth wash over him...**_

"Well? How do you like it, Scrooge?"

"It's...it's lovely! I've never tasted anything like it!"

"Of course you haven't; it is the cider of generosity!"

"'Generosity?' Bah, Humbug! No one has ever shown _me_ generosity!"

"You've never given them reason to!" crowed the spirit. _"Listen, Mr. Scrooge: the sins of the world are huge! A neverending symphony of villainy and infamy, duplicity, deceit, and subterfuge!"_

The spirit leaned in closer, and Scrooge leaned away.

_"And no one's worse...than YOU, old Mr. Scrooge."_

Scrooge gulped.

_"Though Earth's a handy candidate for Hell...I must admit, life sometimes has its brighter side as well."_

The spirit poured more into the goblet, and Scrooge, more unsure than ever before, took another drink.

_"I like life,_" sang the ghost. _"Life likes me! Life and I fairly fully agree! Life is fine! Life is good! Especially mine, which is just how it should be! I like pouring the wine, and why not? Life's a pleasure that I deny not! I like life! Here and now, Life and I made a mutual vow: till I die, Life and I, we'll both try to be better somehow! And, if Life were a woman, she would be my wife!"_

_ "Why?"_

_ "Why?! Because I love Life!"_

"Well, that's all well and good for you, sir, but I hate life!"

"Nonsense! I'm a skeleton, and I love it! Why do you hate it?"

"Because Life hates me, that's why!"

The spirit snorted.

"Scrooge, you're an even bigger fool than I took you for: you don't even know HOW to live! Here, repeat after me: _I like life..."_

Silence.

"Well? Go on!"

_"...I like life."_

_ "Life likes me."_

_ "...Life likes me."_

_ "I think life a perpetual spree."_

_ "...Perpetual spree."_

_ "Eating food..."_

_ "Drinking wine..."_

"There you go! _Thinking, 'who'd like the privilege to dine with me?'"_

_ "I like drinking the drink I'm drinking!"_

"That's the way, Scrooge! _I like thinking the thoughts I'm thinking! I like song! I like dance! I hear music, and I'm in a trance!"_

_ "Tra-la-la!"_

_ "Oom-pah-pah!"_

_ "Chances are,"_ they chorused, _"We shall get up and prance! Where there's music and laughter, happiness is rife! Why? Because I like life! See how much we like life!"_

Scrooge laughed as the song finished...and, very quickly, covered it up with a cough and a frown. The spirit smirked.

"Spirit," Scrooge growled, surprised with himself over his earlier actions, "Conduct me where you will. If you are here to teach me, let me profit by it."

"Take my sleeve!"

_**Scrooge did as he was told, and, in an instant, the parlor vanished. They found themselves on the streets of London, and, as they walked, the Spirit sprinkled some of the cider onto passersby. The ghost led Scrooge down through many alleys and streets; the frost and snow did not seem to affect the thin specter at all...**_

_"Maybe not, but I'm freezing here!"_

_**Oh, worry not, my dear: the spirit's own disposition towards all people, and his strange nature, soon led them – and us – to the home of Scrooge's humble clerk...**_

"This is Oswald's home?" Scrooge ensured, pointing towards the small, cartoonish house.

"It's all he can afford with the fifteen 'bob' a week you pay him!"

_**The spirit crouched low, the red tails of his coat touching the ground and peered through the window. Scrooge joined him...**_

"Well, I'm not staying out here!" snapped Mally. "Please, can we just go inside?"

"Sigh...very well," said her companion, and walked through the door, as if it wasn't there at all.

"...How did you DO that?"

"I've told you before: I'm the author; I can do almost anything I like in my own world."

_**Now, watch...**_

A small, black cat, with a white face, dressed in a pink dress and flowered hat, was stirring something in a pot, over a fire. There was a sound of a door opening and closing, and laughter, and she smiled, rising.

"Ozzy...and the children...home from church..."

"Mother, mother!" cried out three blue Bunny Children as they bounded into the room. "Our dinner may be small, but we could smell it all the way home!"

Ortensia chuckled, and embraced each one.

"Where's your father? And Lucky?"

"Heh...who wants to know?"

All four turned as Oswald entered, smiling. A Bunny child – smaller than the rest, carrying a tiny crutch – was resting on his shoulder. He gently put the child down, and patted him on the back. The child smiled, and moved over to his chair.

"How did Lucky behave?"

"As good as gold...and better! He gets the strangest thoughts you've ever heard...he told me that he hoped people saw him at church, because he was a cripple, and it might help them to remember who made lame beggars walk and blind men see..."

There was a long silence.

"...Kids? Please, set the table!"

The three elder Bunny Children mock-saluted and ran out of the room. They returned soon after with several small plates and old, battered mugs. Silverware soon followed, and Ortensia placed a small goose on the table as the children sat down, Oswald helping Lucky into his own seat.

"Well! I don't think I've ever seen such a marvelous goose!"

Ortensia smiled.

Scrooge cocked his head slightly, eyes trained on Lucky as the family said grace.

"Spirit? What is wrong with that child?"

"A good deal, I fear."

"...Will he...I mean, is he going to...?"

"I see a vacant seat," the spirit started, grimly, as if it knew exactly what Scrooge was going to ask. "In the poor chimney corner...and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved...if these shadows remain unaltered by the future...I believe the child will die."

"No!" Scrooge blurted out, then, as the eyeless spirit turned its gaze upon him, he bowed his head. "No..."

"Well, what of it?" the spirit said, voice deepening, standing tall, glaring at Scrooge fiercely. "After he all, if he's to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population!"

Scrooge said nothing. He only closed his eyes, ears flattening.

The spirit sighed, and looked at Scrooge carefully.

"Next time, Scrooge, hold such foolish thoughts until you know who, what, and where the surplus REALLY is. Remember: no one is truly worthless or unfit to simply LIVE...not even you."

"A toast!" Oswald declared, interrupting the bony specter. "To Mr. Scrooge, the founder of our feast!"

Ortensia scowled, standing up.

"Our feast, you say?! With a goose no larger than a canary?! I wish I had that cat here; I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast on!"

The children giggled...all except Lucky, who sighed softly to himself, and said nothing.

"Ortensia...the children! Christmas Day!"

"Oh, yes, and it WOULD be Christmas Day when anyone would toast to such a hard, unfeeling man as old Scrooge! You know he is, Oswald! Nobody knows it better than you!"

Oswald's ears flattened.

"Ortensia...it's Christmas..."

Ortensia paused for a moment, then sighed, and held up her mug.

"Very well...I'll drink his health for your sake, and the day's, not for his own. Long life to him, and a Merry Christmas to him..."

Here she chuckled.

"He'll be about as merry as a rat in a graveyard."

Here, even Oswald had to laugh.

"To Scrooge!" he said, and they all raised their glasses.

"God bless us," said Lucky, "everyone!"

_**They all ate heartily; they were not a handsome family, and their dinner was not very large...yet they were happy and content, with each other and the time they had. And why not? Scrooge found himself wondering, as he watched, who was really the poorer: himself, or Oswald?**_

"Now, sing us a song, Lucky!"

"Yes, please!" laughed the child's siblings.

Lucky smiled bashfully; his tiny voice carried more emotion than the greatest singer...

_"Life is full of sweet surprises, every day's a gift. The sun comes up, and I can feel it lift my spirit. Fills me up with laughter! Fills me up with song! I look into the eyes of love, and know where I belong...bless us all, who gather here..."_

Here, the entire family joined in.

_"The loving family I hold dear. No place on Earth compares with home, and every path will bring me back from where I roam! Bless us all, that as we live, we'll always comfort and forgive! We have so much that we can share..."_

_ "With those in need we see around us everywhere."_

_ "Let us always love each other..."_

_ "Lead us to the light..."_

_ "Let us hear the voice of reason..."_

_ "Singing in the night!"_

_ "Let us run from anger!"_ sang Oswald.

_"And catch us, when we fall,"_ sang Ortensia.

_"Teach us in our dreams,"_ sang Lucky, _"And, please, yes, please..."_

_ "Bless us one and all!"_

_ "Bless us all with playful years! With noisy games and joyful tears!"_

_ "We reach for you, and we stand tall..."_

_ "And, in our prayers and dreams,"_ sang Oswald, _"We ask you bless us all!"_

_ "We reach for you,"_ Lucky concluded, _"And we stand tall...and, in our prayers and dreams...we ask you...bless...us...all..."_

The small rabbit finished and coughed, while his mother and father set to trying to calm him down.

Scrooge felt moisture in his eyes, but blinked it away.

"Come," said the spirit, "My time grows short."

_**As the scene faded, making way for another, Scrooge kept his eyes upon Lucky till the last. Without warning, Scrooge heard a hearty laugh; he was even more surprised when he recognized it as his nephew's, and found himself in a bright, well-decorated room. His nephew stood in the center of the place – decorated with wreaths with red-&-white striped ribbons, and a tree with red and white ornaments and a strange, spiral-spired star. He held a glass of milk above his head, and was surrounded by groups of black and white kittens, each wearing hats similar to his own, but lettered.**_

"He called Christmas a humbug, as I live!" laughed the Cat in the Hat, taking a sip of milk and hiccupping.

"More shame to him, Cat!" laughed one of the Little Cats, his hat lettered with an "A."

"Oh, he's a comical fellow, to be sure! Still, his offenses carry their own punishment...I've nothing to say against him! I propose a toast...to my Uncle Scrooge!"

The Little Cats chuckled and snorted and sniffed, some amused, some indignant, a few indifferent.

"Zazazoomzazoo!"

"Oh, Little Cat Z, don't say that! Have patience!"

"Patience?" hissed Little Cat B, "For someone so rich? Feel sorry for the profits he makes?"

"Profits made by being a Grinch, no less!" piped up Little Cat C.

"Profits? True," smirked the Big Cat, a twinkle in his eye. "But how do the profits profit him?"

There was a pause. The Cat in the Hat chuckled, and raised his glass again.

"A merry Christmas to him, and a Happy New Year! He wouldn't take it from me, but may he have it nevertheless!"

The Little Cats sighed in chorus, quite used to the big cat's attitude.

"Very well," smiled A. "Whatever you say, Big Cat!"

"To Scrooge!" all twenty-six Little Cats cheered.

_**As their glasses went up, the scene vanished abruptly. The scene changed to nothing but darkness, a void of empty blackness. Scrooge gazed around, and, when his eyes fell upon the spirit, he noted the ghost's clothes had faded...and that the beard around his skeletal chin was no longer fake...and that his teeth and bones had yellowed...**_

"Spirit...Jack...do you grow old?"

"I do."

"Are spirit lives so very short?"

"My time upon the Earth is quite brief: it ends tonight. At midnight."

_**Suddenly, there was a terrible CLANG: the striking of a bell. Then came another...and another...nothing Scrooge could do or say could ever stop the relentless chiming!**_

"Now?" gasped the black cat. "Spirit...don't leave! I've learned so much from you!"

"Yes, but the rest of your lessons must come from another spirit, Maddohatta."

"...The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come? The Future?"

The spirit of the present only nodded.

"...Must I?"

"Ho Ho Ho!" laughed the bony specter, amused with himself, though his laughter was false. "Go forth, and know him better!"

_**At that instant, the bell struck twelve. In a flash, the spirit's bones crumbled into dust, and were lost to the wind...wind unfelt by Scrooge. The red suit of Father Christmas crumpled to the ground in a pale red heap. And so it was that Scrooge beheld...the third spirit...**_

_"Well? Who or what was it?"_

_**You'll find out tomorrow...**_


	6. Chapter 6

Notes: Songs in this chapter are: _Clean Up Your Act_ from _An All Dogs Christmas Carol_ and _We're Despicable (Plunderer's March)_ from _Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol._

**Chapter 6: The Third Spirit**

_** The phantom slowly, gravely approached. As it came closer, Scrooge bent down on one knee in reverence; the very air through which the third spirit moved seemed to scatter gloom and mystery. The ghost was shrouded in a long, black coat, over which was a great black cloak. It wore black gloves and boots, the ends of the fingers tapered, perhaps to conceal claws. A wide-brimmed black hat shrouded its face...all but its mouth, barely visible, and the faintest glimmer of its black, glittering eyes. It carried a cane, topped with a skull, and stopped, leaning slightly on its walking stick, a few feet away from Scrooge.**_

_ "Um...J.?"_

_**Yes, Mally?**_

_"Do you mind if I stay out of this one?"_

_**Scared much?**_

_"No! No, I...I just...um, Fairfarren..."_

_**…So, anyway: Scrooge felt a strange chill go up his spine as the spirit stood before him; he knew nothing more, for the tall, thin ghost neither spoke nor moved another muscle.**_

"Am I in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?"

The specter smiled; its barely visible grin revealed jagged fangs.

"You are about to show me shadows of things that have not happened, but will happen in the time before us. I-is that so, spirit?"

The ghost grinned wider, and nodded.

Scrooge gulped, and rose cautiously.

"Ghost of the Future...I fear you more than any specter I have seen yet...but, as I know your purpose is to do me good, I am prepared to bear your company with a thankful heart."

There was a pause.

"...Will you not speak to me, Spirit?"

The ghost said nothing, but gestured with its cane. As it pointed, a swirl of colors appeared in the darkness. Scrooge glanced at it, then the menacing grin in the shadow of the hat-brim.

"Oh, yes...of course, yes! The night is waning fast, it is precious time to me, I know...lead on, Spirit!"

_**The ghost lunged forward, and Scrooge cried out as a cold, gloved hand wrapped around his arm. The ghost pulled him toward the portal, and they stepped through. They found themselves, once again, in the city. It was raining...yet Scrooge felt not a drop of water touch him. He spotted the rabbit and the March Hare he had met earlier standing under two umbrellas; the Hare's did little, however, for it was full of holes...seemingly burns.**_

"No," said the White Rabbit, "I don't know much about it either way...only that he's dead."

"Och! Wen did he die?"

"Last night, I believe...I wonder what was wrong with him..."

"Aye...I thought he'd naever die!"

They both laughed.

"Gae! Wat's he dun wyth his money?"

"Hmm...not sure! Perhaps he left it to the company; he never gave it to me, that's all I know."

The Hare shrugged.

"I must say, Thackery, it's likely to be a cheap funeral; I can't think of anyone to go to it."

"Och! Well, I would nae mynd goin'..."

"No?"

"No...tha' is, as long as a loonch is provided!"

The rabbit guffawed

"Yes, yes! And you could be the one providing it!"

"Aye!" said the Hare, and giggled madly.

Then they both walked away.

Scrooge turned to the specter, who just smiled at him. He shivered at the cold, dark gaze he could feel, practically searing his fur.

"I...I know those gentlemen, spirit. Who do they speak of?"

_**The ghost pointed with its cane again, and another portal appeared. This time, Scrooge found himself in a dark, dingy room, which smelled of rats and other foul things. Scrooge spotted four figures; three of them were very small, and each carried a large, black bag decorated with images of Jack-O-Lanterns. One was a figure in a red demon's outfit, with a mask covering his face, save his yellow eyes; another was a figure in a purple witche's outfit, with a hat as tall as her entire body, wearing a green mask that, like her friend, covered all but her sinister eyes; the last wore the costume of a corpse, a grinning death's head mask covering, again, all but his wide, dead-looking eyes. The fourth figure looked equally menacing, but wore no mask; the evil eyes and red, rictus smile were very real, the wild green hair and pale skin of a clown not whimsical, but fiendish. It wore a purple suit, complete with gloves, a green bow tie, and an orange vest, with a white shirt.**_

"Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!" laughed the purple-dressed figure. "Lock, Shock, and Barrel! What poor stiff have you robbed now?"

"Not so poor we shouldn't get good treats," smiled the witch, removing her mask; Scrooge gaped, as her face was so like her mask, with its green skin and beaky nose, that he at first wondered if she had removed it at all. "See here, Joker!"

She handed the Joker her bag, and he pulled out something...although Scrooge couldn't quite see what...

"Aha! Bed curtains! You took them down, rings and all, with him lying there!"

"Why not? Who cares for him?"

"Well, on the bright side, he won't catch a cold without them!" the clown said, and then laughed again.

"Look at mine!" said the devil-boy, removing his mask; again, he looked not much different than he did with it on, his teeth filed into fangs and his red hair spiked like horns. He handed the Joker his sack, and the clown pulled out...

"A pair of boots...ooh! And two gold cuff-buttons!"

"Right!"

"And what have you got, Barrel, boy?"

"I've got his blankets!"

The corpse-boy pulled them out and showed them to the Joker.

"Ha Ha Ha!" cackled the cruel clown. "What a way to go: he scared everyone away from him in life, so now we can have all these lovely things after his death!"

All three laughed, as the Joker took the things out of the sack, and placed assortments of candy into them.

_ "We're despicable! We make ourselves plain 'sickable!'" _sang all four.

_"We hate ourselves, berate ourselves, viciously!" _cried Lock.

_"Still none of us wishes we,"_ sang Shock, _"Could shine! We're slick, and shifty birds..."_

_ "With fingers quick as fifty birds!" _sang the others.

_"While stealing your purse or your ticky-tock..."_

_ "Just for a kick,"_ Joker chimed, grabbing an enormous hammer, and slamming it onto poor Barrel's head. _"We'll knock you flat!"_

_"LA LA LA LA-LA-LA LA-LA! LA-LA-LA LA LA LA-LA-LA LA-LA! LA-LA-LA LA LA LA-LA-LA LA-LA!_ _We're just – Clankity-clank-clank! – no good!"_

_"We're not tea party blokes: no chitty-chat and artichokes!"_

_ "We're twice as bloodthirsty as cannibals..." _sang Shock, and, suddenly, bit Barrel's finger.

_"And wilder than animals,"_ Barrel sang, prying the witch off, _"Are we!"_

_ "We're reprehensible!"_

_ "We'll steal your pen and 'pencible!'"_

_ "Then sneer at you, leer at you, naughtily!"_

_ "Agreeing we ought to be in jail!"_

_"LA LA LA LA-LA-LA LA-LA! LA-LA-LA LA LA LA-LA-LA LA-LA! LA-LA-LA LA LA LA-LA-LA LA-LA!_ _WE'RE JUST – CLANKITY-CLANK-CLANK – ALL BAD!"_

"Spirit," Scrooge whispered, shuddering as the four laughed madly. "I see...the fate of this unhappy mine might be my own! My life tends that way now...oh, this is too harsh to bear! Let me see some tenderness connected with a death, I beseech!"

_**The spirit pointed, conjuring a new portal...and Scrooge found himself outside a familiar house...**_

"Ah!" said Scrooge, smiling. "Oswald's place! Oh, thank you, spirit...a place of laughter..."

There was a pause.

"...It's quiet. Too quiet. Why...why is it so quiet, spirit?"

Scrooge dreaded the answer as the specter pointed toward the house.

Scrooge peered through the window...

"Oh, please, don't cry, mom!"

"I'm...I'm fine. It's just the lamp light...turn it down a bit, please."

One of the children did so immediately.

"Ah," sighed their mother, dabbing at her eyes, "that's better. I would not want to show weak eyes to your father when he gets home...he should be back by now..."

"I think he's walked slower these past few days," said one of the children softly.

At that instant, Oswald came in. His eyes were downcast, his ears drooped.

"Oswald...you're home," smiled Ortensia.

"Yes...I...stopped by...well..."

"You went...there, again?"

"Yes...I wish you had been there; it might have done you some good to see how green a place it is. B-but you'll see it often! I promised him! I told him we...we would visit...every Sunday..."

Oswald broke down, going over to the window; Scrooge was forced to stare into the rabbit's eyes. They were...empty. Vacant. He looked lost, even as he sobbed.

"My little, little child...my little child..."

Scrooge backed away fast, and turned to the spirit.

"Not Lucky!"

The ghost nodded.

"Spirit...must there be a Christmas like this? And...and why, in all we've seen, have you not shown me any shadows of my future self?"

_**The spirit whipped his cane around, and a new portal appeared. Scrooge now found himself in a dreary, misty graveyard; in the daytime, it might look pleasant enough, for it was festooned with many greens and snow, but at night, it was foreboding, and cold...**_

_** The specter pointed toward a pair of figures close by, trying to fill in a fresh grave. One was a gremlin, dressed in purple, with a crisp British accent and armor on his chest, arms, and legs. The other was a tall, thin man who wore a labcoat under his undertaker's robe, and black gloves and thick, black boots. He was bald on the top of his head, but had a long, scraggly goatee and curly moustache. When he smiled, it was clear that several of his teeth were missing.**_

"HeeHehHehHehHah!" cackled the man, "Never seen a funeral like this, eh, Prescott?"

"Indeed!" the Gremlin said. "No mourners...no friends to bid him farewell."

"Oh, well...let's head home and finish tomorrow. We'll start again at the crack of dawn; he's not going anywhere, anyway!"

The two laughed, and departed.

Scrooge noted the gravestone; the spirit's cane now pointed there.

Scrooge gulped.

"Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point, answer me one question: are these the shadows of things that will be, or only the shadows of things that may be?"

No response.

"Please, spirit, answer me: people's courses will foreshadow certain ends, but, if these courses are changed, so the ends will, as well! Tell me it is so with what you show me!"

Still no response.

Scrooge hesitated then approached the grave.

He scraped off the snow, to read the name...

The stone read: M. SCROOGE.

Scrooge stared, horrified.

"Am I the one whose belongings were being sold?"

The spirit smirked, and reaching around, tore off its cloak...

Revealing a shining black tuxedo beneath it.

_"It's showtime!"_

The specter snapped his fingers and spun his cane; an organ appeared in the swirling snow...

_ "Look what you've done! You've been a very bad boy, my son: packing seven years of evil into everyone! Greed and vice, a few gold coins, and a pair of dice, aren't going to get you into Paradise!"_

The spirit giggled and leaned towards Scrooge.

"Heh...see what I did there? 'Pair of dice,' 'Paradise?' Huh? Ha Ha Ha!"

Scrooge made no response...but, then, would you be able to?

_"You're in a sad, sad, so sad, really bad, makes-me-mad state, old friend...is this the end?"_

The spirit, without warning lunged...and flung Scrooge into his own grave.

Scrooge screamed as he fell...the coffin below him opened, revealing a bottomless pit...

THUD.

Scrooge looked around; he was in total darkness. Then – THAMP – a spotlight appeared, and the Ghost was there, aided by a group of strange, inky creatures with bulging eyes, short claws, and disproportionately large heads.

_"Ooh...I think it's time..."_

_ "High time to clean up your act!"_

_ "If you don't you're doomed and that's a fact!"_

The spirit snapped his fingers, and a large looking glass appeared.

_ "Take a look, and you'll see the kind of cat you were born to be..."_

Scrooge looked into the mirror...and, as flames jumped at him, fell back with a cry.

_"CLEAN UP YOUR ACT!"_

_ "You could be a leader," _the ghost went on, pacing around, _"You could be a saint! You could be a million things, that, obviously, you ain't! You're slipping and you're sliding, and soon, you're going to fall: out of time, and out of luck...nothing left at all! But you've got time..."_

_ "Got time to clean up your act!"_

_ "Make amends for all the nuts you've whacked!"_

_ "Listen close to what I say: everyone faces judgement day!"_

_ "Hey, hey, hey, hey! CLEAN UP YOUR ACT!"_

_ "When the music's over, when the show is through..."_

The ghost leaned in darkly.

_"You'll still have eternity to spend with you-know-who."_

Scrooge shuddered.

_"You're writing your own ticket! The script is in your claws! Time to shine, be devine, WORK FOR THAT APPLAUSE!"_

As it spoke, the spirit jumped up onto a large red box, shut by a hook. He opened it up...

Scrooge screamed, and tried to flee, as a great, black creature, dripping with ink and acid, rose up out of the box, its black, sharp claws and teeth as deadly as could be, its eyes a glowing, sickly green. It swooped down toward Scrooge with a shriek, and then coiled about him like a snake.

Scrooge gasped for breath, finding himself once again in the dark...seated on a medical couch.

_"Ohh...I think it's time,"_ chuckled the ghost, reappearing, as if stepping out from behind a wall.

_"High time!" _chorused the Blotlings, who now resembled large mops, carrying buckets in their hands, with bright green eyes on their handles. _"To clean up your act!"_

_ "Search for that integrity you've lacked! Change your ways! Get a clue! They're cruel and rotten, the things you do!"_

_ "P.U., P.U.! CLEAN UP YOUR ACT!"_

_ "And now its time..."_

_ "High time to clean up your act!"_

Scrooge screamed as buckets of icy cold water were thrown at him; each splash pushed him back a bit further. For the umpteenth time, he screamed, as a great, black, hole appeared behind him...getting closer...closer...

_"If you don't, you're doomed, and that's a fact! Have a heart, that's the key! You'll be saved, you'll be free! Take a look inside, you'll see the kind of cat you were born to be..."_

_ "Clean up your..."_

"NOOO!" Scrooge wailed as he fell into the blackness, toward a flaming, bright red coffin...

_"CLEAN UP YOUR ACT!"_

_**Scrooge screamed all the way down, terrified of the impact sure to come-**_

"HOLD IT, HOLD IT! WAIT A MINUTE!"

"Ah, Mally! You're back."

"You had the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come...sing?"

"Absolutely!"

"But...WHY?!"

"Well, how about because I wanted at least two songs per ghost, after Maurice, and this was the only one designated to the Future? Or, how about because I really, really like this song to begin with?"

"But...but..."

"Mally?"

"What?"

"Do you want to get to the next chapter or not?"

"Well...I guess I do..."

_**Then be quiet, and let's move on...**_


	7. Chapter 7

Notes: So, if you're still here after the last chapter's closing number: this is the final chapter of the story! The songs here are _A Christmas Carol (reprise)_ from the 1997 film, and _Oh, What a Merry Christmas Day (reprise)_ from _Mickey's Christmas Carol._

**Chapter 7: Curtain Call**

_**Scrooge howled in terror, the maniacal laughter of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come following him as he went...**_

__"I'LL CHANGE! I SWEAR, I'LL CHANGE...!"

THUD!

Scrooge looked around...

He slowly felt a smile creeping over his face...

He had fallen face first...on his own bedroom floor.

"I'm home!"

He jumped to his feet, and grabbed the curtains of the bed.

"They are not torn down, rings and all...they're still here! I'm still here! Oh, heaven and the Christmastime be praised for this! I say it on my knees, old Maurice! Do you hear me?! On my knees!

"_I've lived a tale of a Christmas_

"_That caused my spirit to burn:_

"_My past, my present, and my future_

"_All taught me I've so much to learn!_

"_I've lived a tale of a miser,_

"_Who spoiled every joy that he could..._

"_Then, he got older, and wiser,_

"_And only yearned to be good!_

"_Once, my memories_

"_Brought me nothing but pain..._

"_But, now, it's Christmas!_

"_I've new, precious memories to gain!_

"I'll sing a song about wonder,

"_Like snow from the heavens above!_

"_I've a new song about Christmas!_

"_Ha Ha Ha Ha! I'VE A NEW SONG_

"_OF LOVE!"_

Scrooge paced around excitedly, chuckling to himself the whole time.

"I...I just don't know what to do! I'm as happy as an angel, as merry as a schoolboy, as giddy as a drunken man!"

Without thinking, he threw open his window.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS TO EVERYBODY!" he called out to the people passing by on the street below. "HAPPY NEW YEAR TO THE WORLD!"

Just then, he realized something, and shut the window quickly.

"I don't even know what day of the month it is...I don't know how long I've been among the spirits! Ha Ha, I don't know anything, really! I am practically a baby!"

He reopened the window, and shouted to the first person he saw: a small, elephant-like creature with the wings of a tropical bird.

"Hello, hello!" called Scrooge. "What's today?"

Morton, the elephant-bird, flew up closer, so he could hear.

"I'm sorry...what did you say?"

Scrooge chuckled again.

"An intelligent boy...a remarkable boy...I asked, 'what's today?'"

"Oh...well, it's Christmas Day, of course!"

Scrooge laughed aloud, and looked down, into space, running a paw through the fur on top of his head.

"It's Christmas Day! I haven't missed it...the spirits have done it all in one night! Well, they can do anything they like...of course! Um...my fine young fellow?" he said, raising his eyes once more to meet the confused elephant bird's.

"Er...yes, sir?"

"Do you know whether the poulterer's shop on the corner is still open?"

"It is, sir."

"And do you know if they've sold the prize turkey hanging in the window? Not the little one, the big one!"

"What, the one as big as me?"

Scrooge laughed harder.

"It's a pleasure talking to you, lad! Yes, that one!"

"It's still there!"

"Is it? Go and buy it!"

The elephant bird snorted, and began to fly away.

"Oh, go on!"

"No, no, wait! Stay, please! I am in earnest! Go and tell them to bring it here, so that I can give them the money and directions on where to take it. Come back in less than five minutes, and I'll give you half a crown!"

"Yes, sir!" said Morton, and flapped away as fast as his wings could carry him.

"I'll send it to Oswald's house," Scrooge mumbled, as he quickly put on his coat, hat, trousers, etc. "He shan't know who sent it...it's twice the size of Lucky! What a surprise this will be!"

_** It WAS a turkey, to be sure: he never could have stood upon his own two legs, that bird! He might have snapped them off in an instant, like old candlesticks! Scrooge chuckled as he paid for the bird, chuckled as he told the Turkey-carrier to take it to Oswald's place on Camden road, chuckled as he gave some money for a cab, chuckled as he paid Morton for his troubles...**_

___"I think we get the idea."_

_**Filled with more joy than he could remember ever feeling, Scrooge grabbed his cane and took to the streets, his heart set on wishing the entire planet a merry Christmas. Everyone was out and about this fine morning, and it wasn't long before he came across two familiar faces... **_

__"Ah! My dear gentlemen!" called Scrooge, quickening his pace before the two could evade him.

"M-Mr. Scrooge?" stammered the White Rabbit as the black cat took his paws and shook them firmly, while the March Hare let out a short yelp and tried to hide behind his ledger.

"Yes, that's my name, and I fear it isn't pleasant to you. But, allow me to ask your pardon, and about that charity of yours..."

"Y-y-yes?"

"Put me down for..."

Scrooge whispered in the rabbit's ear, while the Hare listened in.

Both gasped in surprise.

"Lord bless meh!" squeaked the March Hare.

"My dear Mr. Scrooge, are you...are you SERIOUS?"

"And not a penny less...plus a great many back-payments included, I assure you."

"I...I don't know what to say..."

"Then don't say anything! I am much obliged to you; will you come and see me?"

"Yes, yes!"

"Aye, we will!"

"Bless you...fifty times, thank you! Merry Christmas!"

_**Scrooge went to church, and waved to people to and fro, and patted children on the head, and threw several coins into the cups of several beggars...he had never thought a walk could bring him so much happiness. Very soon, he turned his footsteps toward his nephew's house...**_

__Scrooge knocked on the door. A creature with white skin, fuzzy blue hair, and dressed in a red suit opened the door. On its chest was an insignia reading "Thing 1."

"Excuse me...is the Cat in the Hat at home?" Scrooge asked, tipping his hat.

"Yes, sir!"

"Thank you...he knows me. I'll show myself in."

Scrooge moved to the dining room, and, very carefully, eased his head in.

"Nephew?"

The Cat started; he and three of the Little Cats were setting the table for the party later on.

"Well, in the name of Ted Geisel! Uncle Scrooge?"

"Yes...I've come to dinner, if you'll have me..."

"Have you?!" gasped the cat, appalled at the idea of doing otherwise. "Of course, you're always welcome! Come in, uncle!"

_**Scrooge was at home in five minutes!**_

___"It was a mercy the Cat didn't shake his arm off..."_

_**Wonderful party, wonderful games, wonderful food...wonderful happiness!**_

___"Still, Scrooge was early at the office the next morning..."_

_**Indeed, he was, Mally...to catch Oswald coming in late...it was just what he'd set his heart on. And so he did: the clock struck the hour. No Oswald. A quarter past...still no Oswald! He was a full twenty minutes late...**_

__Oswald bounded into the office, and headed for his desk, praying that Scrooge was not...

"Mr. Oswald!"

...There.

Oswald gulped, and turned around, the familiar, burning red eyes set on him as usual.

"G-good morning, Mr. S-Scrooge..."

"'Good morning,' indeed," Scrooge growled. "And what do you mean by coming here at this time of day, hm?"

"I...I'm very sorry, sir. I know I'm behind my time-"

"Yes. I think you are," Scrooge hissed, and then beckoned the rabbit over. "Step this way, sir, if you please."

Oswald gulped, ears going back, fiddling with his hands, nervous beyond belief.

"It's only once a year, sir...it shall not be repeated...I...I was..."

"You were what?"

Oswald took a deep breath.

"...I was making rather merry yesterday, sir."

Scrooge sniffed.

"Well, I'll tell you what my friend," he purred, smoothly, rising in his seat. "I am not going to stand for this sort of thing any longer...and therefore..."

Oswald closed his eyes...

"Therefore..."

Oswald whimpered.

Scrooge allowed a smirk to trace his lips.

"...THEREFORE...I am about to raise your salary!"

Oswald blinked, and said nothing.

Scrooge paused, and then giggled wildly.

The giggle turned into a chuckle...

And that chuckle changed into a loud, wild laugh.

"Merry Christmas, my dear Oswald!" he roared, and leapt from his desk. Oswald backed away, and quickly grabbed a ruler, holding it out like a sword.

This only made Scrooge laugh louder, and he backed away, hands held up placatingly.

"A merrier Christmas, my friend, then I have given you for many a year. I WILL raise your salary, and endeavor in every way I can to assist you and your family...Lucky will get better, I promise you."

Oswald blinked, lowering the ruler slowly.

"Are...are you quite...yourself, sir?"

"No! No, thank the day, I'm not myself, and I've never felt better! I presume you liked the turkey I sent you yesterday? Well, if you did not, I'll find an even bigger one, and we shall discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a nice bowl of smoking bishop! Now, away with you, and buy a new scuttle of coal..."

Here Scrooge tossed a small purse of coins at Oswald, who caught it fast.

"...Before you dot another 'i,' Oswald. Hilly ho!"

Oswald, dazed, ran out of the room...

Then after a few minutes time, reentered, helpless to do anything but stare at Scrooge, who just smiled at him...

Then gasped in shock as the rabbit ran up to him and hugged him.

Uncertain, the black cat pushed him back a bit, smirking.

"One step at a time, Oswald," he purred.

The rabbit laughed, and ran back out...

But not before calling out a joyous, "Merry Christmas!"

Scrooge smiled to himself.

"Merry Christmas, Oswald...and God bless us everyone."

_**Scrooge was better than his word; he did all he promised, and more...and to Lucky, who did not die, he became a second father. He was said thereafter that old Scrooge knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. Some people laughed at the change in him...but he let them laugh, for his own heart laughed, and that was good enough for him. May that truly be said of us all...and, so, as Lucky and Scrooge both observed, "God bless us, everyone!"**_

__Mallymkun sighed, and turned to her companion with a smirk, which was matched by the man's own sly smile.

"Well? How was that?"

"I'm still going to kill you...but it can wait. Good story, J."

"Thank you...shall we join Tarrant for some tea?"

"Why not?"

_Joy to the children, far and near! _

_What a wonderous time of year!_

_Isn't it just grand to say,_

"_Merry, Merry Christmas..._

_(Merry, Merry Christmas...)_

"_Merry, Merry Christmas..._

_(Merry, Merry Christmas...)_

_Oh, what a merry Christmas day!_


End file.
